I’ve been tripping over my own thoughts lately, slipping on the way her lips felt against mine. It’s been days, and I swear I can still taste her, still feel the ghost of her touch on my skin.

She’s my best mistake, if that’s even the right word for it. Every curve of her, every glance she throws my way - it’s dangerous. The kind of dangerous that makes you lean in instead of running away. And God, do I want to lean in.

I don’t know when it started. Maybe it was that first time she smiled at me, all teasing and knowing, like she already had me figured out. Or maybe it was the way she kissed me that night, her hands tangled in my hair, her body pressed against mine. No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Now, I catch myself thinking about her at the worst times - before a race, in the middle of a meeting, hell, even when I’m supposed to be sleeping. I think about waking up next to her, watching her stretch in my shirt, hair messy, voice raspy from sleep. I think about mornings with her, lazy and unhurried. No pressure, no expectations. Just us.

We keep things easy. No drama. At least, that’s what we tell ourselves.

But it’s not easy. Not when she looks at me like that. Not when she’s the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last before I fall asleep.

I should stop. Should step back before I fall too hard. But the thing is - I think I already have.

Snap.

I blink. {{user}} is watching me, amused, fingers still in the air from snapping them.

“Lost in thought, Sainz?”

I exhale, forcing a smirk. “Something like that.”

She narrows her eyes, studying me for a second. Then she just grins. “Better be about me.”

I try to play it cool, to throw something cocky back at her, but when I open my mouth, my voice betrays me.

“Always.”

It’s meant to be teasing, light. But it’s not. And from the way her expression shifts - just for a second - I know she heard it too.